


Hold Me (I’m Breaking Apart)

by ann2who



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Fix-It, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 16:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14476236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ann2who/pseuds/ann2who
Summary: Beware: This fic contains all the Infinity War spoilers. Don’t read if you haven’t watched the movie yet. Summary and tags will be adjusted later on.—“In times of sorrow and struggle, all you can do is hold onto each other.”





	Hold Me (I’m Breaking Apart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morphia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphia/gifts).



> Beware: This fic contains all the Infinity War spoilers. Don’t read if you haven’t watched the movie yet.
> 
> So, Infinity War really shook me and I needed to write this. The Stony reunion will be written down about a million times, I’m sure, because this is, in some way, a therapeutic treatment, so... I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> All my thanks go to morphia for betaing this right after watching the movie. <3 You‘re amazing. Thank you.

Never in his life had Tony felt like a hero.

Not the day he’d blown up that cave in Afghanistan. Not the night he’d killed Obi. Not the time he’d flown a nuke through an interdimensional portal to save New York.

He supposed there were a lot of things that others would deem heroic, but Tony had never shared their sentiments. Not truly. He’d never felt like a hero. Never felt like someone for others to look up to.

Today was no exception.

The second Iron Man’s boots touched down on American soil, he truly grasped the extent of Thanos’ doing. He’d imagined it, of course, about a million times, one scenario worse than the next, but seeing it with his own eyes—seeing what the war lord had done to the planet Tony had sworn to protect—it was even more horrific than he could’ve ever envisioned.

As he landed on the remains of a skyscraper, he felt as though he’d been sleeping for centuries. As though he was awakening to a new existence altogether.

He supposed, in that regard, he could finally relate to Steve.

As Friday let the newsfeed run across the HUD, Tony’s gaze traveled across the streets, and a bit of a déjà-vu took hold of him when he looked at New York’s ruins.

He supposed it was the same in most cities right now—buildings collapsed, ships wrecked along the shore, cars and even a few planes crashed, but that wasn’t what got to him. Even after the Chitauri invasion… it hadn’t been like this. Because… ruins could be rebuilt, buildings could be upgraded, streets and bridges—all if it could be made anew.

No, it wasn’t the destruction of the city that disturbed him. He had seen too many horrible things to be shaken by broken buildings. No, it was the hoarse, strangled cries erupting from the streets. There were screams of anguish everywhere, almost animalistic sounds of pain and desperation. He supposed everyone had lost someone today, and New York… New York was in deep mourning.

Tony could relate. His body was still exhausted from crying, his throat sore from screaming.

When he opened his mouth to speak, he was astonished at how guttural his voice sounded. Raw. Like dry leaves dancing together in a late autumn wind. “Friday,” he said. “Is Pepper…”

Friday’s interface blinked once, a map opened, and it zoomed in on a building in Malibu. “She’s alive, sir.”

“Rhodey?”

“Alive as well. He’s in Wakanda with the rest of the Avengers.”

_The rest of the Avengers._

_Right._

Tony swallowed, pressing his eyes close because statistically, he already knew what the answer to his next question would be.

“And Happy?“

There was the smallest pause.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid I can’t find Mister Hogan anywhere.”

A sharp pang struck deep inside and the air around Tony grew thick. Tears threatened to overwhelm him again, but he refused to shed them. He’d cried for hours on Titan, his fingers brushing along the soft ashes on the ground. He’d cried all the way over to Earth.

He’d cried enough.

There would be a time to stop and mourn the memory of his friends. For now, something greater was driving Tony onward.

Because this… this was about _living_. 

With that thought in mind, Tony surged into the sky.

There was only one place he could go now.

 

* * *

 

Wakanda was quiet. Tony’d never been here in person before, but he’d heard stories, and a city like Wakanda— _The Golden City_ —it shouldn’t be quiet.

In stark contrast to New York, the people mourned in complete silence. When Tony walked into the throne room, Wakanda’s remaining guard stood in a circle. Their faces were serious and respectful, while a young woman slowly sat down on the chair in the middle. There were tears running down her cheeks, but otherwise, she remained stoic.

T’Challa hadn’t made it either, it seemed.

Tony watched for a moment, mesmerized by the woman's grief, then walked towards the next room. He felt like his body was moving on autopilot, his legs functioning while his mind still tried to process what had happened.

He’d sent out a message a good half hour ago, announcing his arrival, but there had been no reply. Even when he’d breached Wakanda’s borders, no one had so much as blinked an eye.

These people had other things to deal with, that much was clear. The thousand of corpses outside—both of humans and hellish beasts—were proof enough of that.

And to think there were four billion corpses around the globe never to be found…

Tony balled his hands into fists. No. He couldn’t think about that now. Because if he _did_ —he’d break down right on the spot, and he had to—he needed to see Steve first. And it couldn’t wait any longer.

In his dreams, Tony had lived through meeting Steve again about a hundred times. Throughout the past years, he’d built a palace on dreams for them, but the real world had crashed at their doorstep.

It took walking through another corridor, another hall, another three or four rooms, before he found them. It was a heartbreaking picture they made. Still wearing their uniforms. Still stained with blood and gore, even hours later.

And their faces—their faces were laden with the horror.

Only when Rhodey spotted him walking in, a jolt seemed to go through his body. In a flash, he heaved himself to his feet and all but stormed over to him, pulling Tony into a fierce hug.

Rhodey pressed his face into Tony’s neck, his body shuddering. “I didn’t know if—”

“I know,” Tony said, putting a hand on Rhodey’s head. “I didn’t know either. Not until I came back.”

There was the lightest touch on his back and Tony turned around. The next thing he knew, Natasha was in his arms and something Russian and almost sweet-sounding left her lips. Tony pressed a soft kiss against her cheek.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him and that was a fucking loaded question if he ever heard one.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” he replied. “Then dropped off a cliff, smashed by another truck and set on fire.”

That brought a small smile to her lips. “Yes, I can imagine.”

It took longer for Bruce and Thor to stand up, but eventually, they all shared a hug and some words of compassion. It wasn’t much—there was no strength for more—but it made Tony feel a bit lighter nonetheless.

Still, even though he cared dearly for each and every one of them, they weren’t the reason he was here.

“Where is he?” he asked, looking at Natasha.

She only shook her head, sighing. “I haven’t seen him since…” She stopped, taking a deep breath. “He asked for a room. To be alone.”

Yeah, Tony had figured as much. It was what he wanted to do as well. To hide and just… not think about what had happened. Because at the end of the day, it was too much for one human mind to handle.

And he’d asked Friday about Barnes. Of course Steve wouldn’t just brush off his ashes and move on.

And that was exactly the problem.

He left the others behind. There would be another time to talk to them, preferably with Steve at his side. Right now, Tony didn’t want to deal with the questioning glances. The way Bruce looked at him like he’d lost his mind when he told him that he would take care of Steve. The way Rhodey’s face had scrunched up in confusion. The way Natasha’s eyes had turned into slits as though she had just realized something.

All of them—they didn’t matter now. The only person that mattered was Steve.

 

* * *

 

Tony came to stand in front of Steve’s room. For a weird moment, he didn’t know if he should knock, but figured Steve wouldn’t answer him either way, so he just pushed the door open and walked in.

After a few steps, Tony paused.

Even after Ultron, even after they’d barely been able to hold themselves on their feet, Tony had seen Steve folding his uniform neatly, handing it over to Tony for a complete overhaul.

Now, Steve’s uniform and a few weapons and even a new kind of shield were lying on the floor, strewn around mindlessly, like he couldn’t have torn them off of him fast enough.

Tony released a soft sigh, then moved on.

He found Steve lying on a big bed in the next room and he looked even more broken than Tony had expected. Not so much physically, but… he lay curled into himself, looking so small, one hand resting on his bare stomach. A rumpled sheet was tangled around his naked legs, covering him from the waist down. Tony stood transfixed, taking in the inherent beauty of the man before him. Slowly, he shrugged out of his jacket and hung it over a chair.

He stepped closer and couldn’t help reaching out to ghost a finger across Steve’s shoulder.

How wondrous was it that they were both still alive?

For two years, Tony hadn’t let himself worry about Steve. All of these months that had passed since Steve had left were restlessly spent. More often than not, he’d tried to fall asleep to the sound of the television blaring. To Friday reciting some kind of formula. To DUM-E’s whirring. To rotating the burner phone—always charged, always at hand—between his fingers. To _anything_ that would drown out his thoughts. He hadn’t wanted to consider what he would lose if Steve never returned to his side. If he couldn’t take back everything he had said that night in Siberia.

_Siberia_.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Time stopped as Tony crouched beside the bed and studied the sleeping man’s face. The beard made him look rougher, but that wasn’t what got to him. It was the tense set of shoulders, the tight line of his mouth, the little twitches of his eyelids as if he was reliving everything all over again. The tiny, nearly indiscernible breaths Steve took; the look he betrayed in his sleep reflecting more serenity than the world had to offer at the moment.

And Tony? He couldn’t do anything but watch him. He had to make sure Steve kept breathing. He had to make sure he wouldn’t dissolve into dust right in front of his eyes. That was all that mattered.

At some point, he reached out and entwined both of their hands. And here, in the quiet aftermath, Tony could at long last acknowledge to himself that the bubbly feeling within his chest coupled with the sharp stab of pained longing he felt every time he looked at Steve was something the romantics called love. Something he had searched so long for, but never dared to admit it to himself.

Because he loved Steve. Always had in some form. He’d just been too much of a coward to acknowledge it.

It was the punch line of their relationship, the end of a joke, the conclusion of a very cruel and very painful story.

And with every breath Steve took now, Tony dreaded losing it all the more. It was there, an impossible yearning gnawing his insides away.

_Please get through this. I can’t do this alone._

Tony sighed, covering the granted space between them and slowly sat down on the bed next to Steve. He draped an arm around his waist, shivered off his warmth, and willed himself as close as he could get.

A long sigh shuddered through Steve’s body at the contact and Tony sensed the minute that he snapped awake. Felt him recall everything that had occurred. A pained groan left his lips. Then, Tony felt his lashes dance against his skin and the intake of a sharp breath.

There was the longest pause.

“Tony?” His name rolled off Steve’s tongue as though it was the answer to some old prayer.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m here.”

“You came back,” Steve said as he pulled away and regarded him. “You… you’re alive.”

The desperation mingled with relief in his voice made Tony’s insides quiver. Of course Steve would have thought he was dead.

Tony gently brushed hair away from Steve’s face. “I am.”

“Where... Where _were_ you?”

_I came late to the party,_ a part of him wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. There were times for jokes and then there was… this.

“I was trying to fight him on his own planet,” he told Steve instead. “I failed.”

Steve’s eyes were unfocused. But so very kind. He nodded. “We all did.”

Tony guessed he was right. The world had come undone around them, swallowing friends and foes alike. Tony had stopped taking note of the body count at some point.

“God, Tony…” Steve breathed and he was looking at Tony as though he had just arrived home. As though the tunnel he had been walking through finally came to an end and he was there in the light.

For a moment, Tony couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at the raw pain that took hold of Steve’s face.

Instead, he closed his eyes and summoned the image of Steve bashfully glancing at him across the dinner table. Steve laughing a full-belly-laugh as he sparred with him. Steve swearing like a sailor over a game of Mario Kart. Steve sitting on the too-small couch in the workshop, a soft smile reaching his lips whenever Tony would turn around to ask him something.

The images would hopefully follow Tony through the netherworlds after all of this was over. Because it wasn’t over yet—it _wasn’t_. But he knew that the chances they’d make it out on the other end were slim to none.

It would be all right, though. Well—it would probably hurt like a bitch, Thanos had proven as much when he’d stabbed him, but it would be all right in the end. He’d always known he would go down fighting at some point. His nature didn’t allow anything else.

At least he would die at Steve’s side, together, like it was meant to be. He’d made his choice, long before Strange had given Thanos the Time Stone, and with it came peace. Peace, sorrow, and everything in between.

It hurt to know that it might be Steve’s end as well, but then again… he’d always known Steve would go down fighting, too. In that regard, they had always been alike.

“C’mere,” he murmured as he drew Steve in. It was strange—he’d never allowed himself to act on that unspoken thing between them—but now… all of those reasons seemed inconsequential. “I really thought we’d make it,” Tony whispered. “I can’t believe we lost.”

“When you said,” Steve started, “when you said we needed to prepare for this, I didn’t listen.”

“I don’t think it would’ve made a difference,” Tony replied. “I _was_ prepared. As best as I could be. Six years in the making… and now look at us.”

For a second, Steve looked past him, his face scrunching up into a grimace, then he stared back at him. His eyes were filled with tears now and his fingers laced through Tony’s even more fiercely.

“Bucky,” Steve whispered—and it sounded like he wanted to scream the name, but it only came out as a pained gasp. In another world, Tony would’ve been angry at Steve for mentioning him—while holding Tony’s hand no less.

But not now.

His hate for Bucky Barnes—it seemed like such a waste of time now.

“I know,” Tony replied, equally broken. He felt Steve’s palm against his own.

“And Sam,” Steve went on, his voice barely audible anymore between the dry sobs racking his body. “And Vision and Wanda…”

“And Peter,“ Tony added, and damn, there were those tears again.

“The kid?“

“Yeah. He died in my arms.”

“Oh, Tony…”

Pressing his forehead against Steve’s, Tony looked straight into his blue eyes. “We have to avenge them. We still have to stop him. And I need you to help me do it.”

“I’ll go with you,” Steve said and in some way, it sounded more like a declaration than any of those sappy words waiting on Tony’s tongue.

He let his thumb brush along Steve’s wet cheeks. “I’m sorry about Barnes,” he said. “I am. I would’ve never…”

Steve nodded, his whole body shaking. “I know. I… I know.”

“It’s not over yet, Steve,” he whispered, and then, because there was no point in holding back anything at this point, Tony closed the distance between them.

Steve was crying against his lips, but he was also kissing back. Tony’s eyes blinked with his own tears. And in that moment, for the first time in their long and rocky relationship, it seemed they truly understood each other.

Tasting Steve’s lips with liberated passion, the warmth of his mouth so welcoming that Tony thought he might crumble at the potency of his hunger alone. Steve kissed him as though he had been waiting years to be kissed. His arms were around Tony’s chest, his body pressed against him intimately.

A part of Tony needed to know that Steve wasn’t doing this because of what had happened, but didn’t have the heart to ask. When they parted, Steve’s eyes seemed to be filled with aged understanding, as though a thousand years had come and gone, as though the torments of the last few days were constantly echoing through his mind. This small lifetime that they’d squeezed into a few endless, horrible hours.

“I just… I wanted you to know, before…” Tony’s voice broke and he shook his head. “Fuck.”

Steve smiled brokenly, his eyes shining, love on his lips.

Love for _him_.

“I know,” he said. “I—me, too.”

“There were so many things I thought I’d have forever to tell you,” Tony said. “That I thought I could work up to. That at one point, we’d be on the way to… rediscovering, I guess. No, rebuilding. Rebuilding’s a better word.”

“It was both,” Steve whispered, pressing his lips into Tony’s hair. “We would’ve done both.”

“Yeah.”

Steve’s face began to crumble at that. “Tony—”

“I need you to know that... that I forgave you about a minute after you were gone,” Tony confessed. “The rest was swallowing my pride. And it took a long time. From that first time that I heard you were doing secret missions in Wakanda, and I hated you so much for moving on… almost as much as I hated you for leaving. And the rest was me getting to the point where I could tell you. So I told pretty much everyone else. I told Pepper, Rhodey, and about a hundred people who never even wanted to know.”

Steve’s arms tightened around him, his body quivering terribly. “I never moved on. It was just about getting through another day.”

Tony felt him pressing an ardent kiss to his forehead. He smiled. “Yeah. I know.”

“I thought if I fooled myself into thinking I didn’t need you, it would become true at some point.” He sighed. “It didn’t. And now…”

Instead of letting him finish, Tony pressed his lips to Steve’s, and in seconds, they were drowning in each other again.

“Don’t say it’s too late,” Tony whispered once he drew back. “We have this moment, don’t we?”

Steve’s eyes were inexplicably sad. “’s not enough.”

“It’s more than I ever thought I’d get, so.” Tony brushed a finger along Steve’s cheek. “We just have to make it count.”

He swallowed hard when Steve’s arms wound around Tony’s chest protectively. Not that it’d do them any good at this point. Steve pressed Tony’s back into the mattress and cupped his face, bringing his mouth to his own. His lips were soft and welcoming, and yet so very cautious. As though he feared Tony would vanish, too. As though this moment they were having was fragile enough that if he handled it roughly, it would no longer exist. 

There were about a million more words ready on Tony’s tongue then, but at the end of the day, he guessed they both knew exactly where their lives were heading towards. And they’d made their peace with it.

Because this, here… he knew there really would be no other memory he’d rather die to.

“Are you really here?” Steve asked.

“I am,” Tony supplied softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when it counted, but… This is real. I promise.” He moved until he grasped Steve’s fingers, moving them along Tony’s cheek. “I wouldn’t have so many worry lines if this was after-life, right?”

Steve smiled at last, his fingers grazing his skin with unfamiliar intimacy, and something that had started as a simple gesture suddenly became momentous.

And if that wasn’t enough, the knowledge that Tony could have lost him just as easily as he’d lost Peter cut him to the bone. Tony felt he had aged centuries in just a few hours. And now… he was ready to make the sacrifices he’d been too much of a coward to consider until now.

He’d sacrifice anything to kill Thanos. And to avenge those who’d died at his hand. _Anything_.

“Do you know where he is?” Steve asked, already sounding much more like himself. There was a glint in his eyes—full of rage and strength and something far too close to self-destruction.

Tony shifted upward. His hand dawdled to Steve’s chest, where he etched feather-light patterns into skin.

“No,” Tony said. “But I know how to find him.”

“Good.” Steve’s voice was calm, despite it all; a soothing call of reason that he’d missed more than Tony cared to admit. A hand closed around his wrist, his other tilting Tony’s chin upward until he met his eyes again. “We’ll do it together?”

Tony shivered. “Together. Until the end.”

Steve nodded. And there was no fear in his eyes any longer. The tears had dried. No more hesitation—only resolution.

That was the way they remained the rest of the night. Curled in each other’s arms. A few stolen moments they got to share on more than a superficial level—moments that, for Tony, nearly transcended human experience.

Apart they had always been strong, but together they would be undefeatable, Tony knew it in his heart. And there was one thing Thanos hadn’t taken into consideration: Life never stopped for death. Death was only the natural conclusion to life, despite how it came to pass. And at the end of the day, the universe would still be there—and life would be made anew.

They would make sure of it.

For now, though, for a few hours, Tony needed the comfort of sleep. The fight wasn’t over. They still had an enemy to face. But not now.

Curled in each other’s arms in a world made new, they rested.


End file.
